The Tragedy of Homeworld

[PorkyThePaladin]

Too White? Too Asian? Too Male? Too talented? Too intelligent?

These 90's dev team images are always so blackpilling. We have lost so much.

It's literally the same exact people, they just transitioned.

 

[Napalm]

Of course that changed when they got to use the Homeworld IP and with whatever was going on in the market for their idle phone game, but I don't think they ever really switched gears entirely. Just like any phone game that aims to make a quick buck on an intellectual property H:DoK doesn't just skate on the Homeworld IP but cuts it uncomfortably close to another Sierra game of the same time, Ground Control. Massive had been a Swedish studio from before they were made privy to the full joys of diversity, vibrance and jewish "progressiveness", and they had made Sierra another convention breaking RTS game. Instead of building a base on each map and building up an economy from scratch as if every battle was some pitched battle of instant civilization building you'd just fly your units in with a dropship, you know, like in real life.

Ground Control featured large maps, a very easy to use but free 3D camera, and a highly focused gameplay setup around the use of units. It also had a setting and story with one group of conventional units, the player, fighting against a religious cult with hoover vehicles that are quicker and more agile but less sturdy, over artifacts on the planet. This is also the setting of Homeworld: Deserts of Kharak, and the two sides you will be seeing. It copies other things, like the intermissions with characters making logs or speaking with one another, instead of making use of the style of the Homeworld games.

Not only is there a lack of vision but as a company Blackbird also retained many of the MOBA conventions, instead of the purely stategic use of units of Ground Control, every unit has some ability with a cooldown that you're supposed to spam, giving the game more of an APM feel than one of strategizing and planning things out. Quality control is also rather poor, even now after all these years I encountered a selection bug and one of the missions don't have an image when you select it while the rest have them, smaller things like that, enough to make the game feel unpolished.

Regarding Ground Control, in a sense it did have "special abilities" in form of offensive special weapons and defensive/support special equipment, which were actually very powerful, but also had very limited number of uses with no replenishment, just like the units themselves. When played against AI, which itself didn't use special weapons, it was simply a nice way to clear out large unit concentrations or very powerful static heavy turrets quickly. On other hand, when played in multiplayer against other people, significant part of gameplay was using maneuver, terrain, and vision to make best use of your special weapons, while baiting out your opponent's ones in unfavourable conditions. Strongest special weapons could obliterate a whole enemy squad in a single salvo in case of theoretical perfectly lined up shot, but could be also fully blocked by timely use of appropriate special equipment, or just flat out completely miss against laterally maneuvering opponent. Usually the first part of standard deathmatch in multiplayer was heavily dominated by special weapons, while in latter part everyone was running out of them, and tactics changed accordingly relying more on standard weaponry.

Also, in many sense DoK compared to Ground Control is just another example of decline of modern times. In GC I could rebind ingame every key, even "><" one between Left Shift and Z which many English keyboards don't have, while for DoK you couldn't do it at all in release and even now need to manually edit some files or whatnot. GC had very minimalist UI, giving more screen space for battlefield itself, rather than filling it with all kinds of buttons. In GC campaign you had 30 missions, 15 with each faction, in DoK you play only one faction for 13 missions. In GC frontline units had directional armour values, stronger at front, weaker at sides, and weakest at back, nothing like that in DoK. Heck, in GC you had even features like shadow reducing your visibility and higher elevation giving accuracy advantage.

 

[Cat Headed Eagle]

Gladiator 2 will presumably be about a fierce black trans woman fighting to escape the patriarchy.

Romans were peak degenerates so I wouldn't be terribly surprised if you can dig around and find something along these lines, tbh.

 

[Be Kind Rewind]

Also, in many sense DoK compared to Ground Control is just another example of decline of modern times.

Amen. I didn't want to get too deep into Ground Control because it's slightly off topic and I know I could go on for too long about that and other more obscure RTS games if I let myself.

The point about abilities was about this specific post-Warcraft 3, I'm not sure it began there but it's a good guess I think, busywork where you'll always want an ability activated if you could and it is set on a cooldown since there are no downsides to it or any thought put into it. You might argue that the stealth ship from the first Homeworld (Kushan exclusive) had the stealth mode as an ability, but it would drain fuel and wasn't mindless APM spam. Or you might take something from a later Relic game, like the Heavy Weapons Team until in Winter Assault that had two different modes and couldn't move while having their weapon set up properly, sort of like siege tanks from Starcraft.

DoK on the other hand has for example these scout vehicles that can receive a speed boost as an ability you must click on, it has no downsides and you should use it as much as you can to make them more mobile. The only thing you need to worry about is that you might want to save it for when they bail after a hit and run attack. Or take the Baserunner, to collect resources from a shipwreck in the sands you need to activate its ability four times, with a minuscule cooldown between each, and then order the explosives blown up. You can't just order a Baserunner to crack a hull, you can't run out of the explosives they use, it's busywork for the sake of it, giving the player something to do since the rest of the game isn't as engaging as past games like Ground Control. You don't have to worry so much about where your units are facing, if your tanks are getting hit from the rear, or if you're going to run out of fuel or ammunition. The strategy-less combat blob had already started in DoK.

It's the difference between modes or specials that require a resource, and the MOBA style clickfest with 5% more attack for 45 seconds and then a 20 second cooldown, and not for a hero unit but for regular units. You can't really say they are the same thing.

Your point about the UI has all the more bite to it because the original Homeworld, just like Ground Control, at all times tried to leave the screen as clean and free from UI as possible. Ground Control 2 fell for the big UI block as the lower 1/5th of the screen meme too, just like Homeworld 2, and the travesty that is Blackbird UI design. You'd think they would want to show off the one thing they are good at, which is graphics.

I also forgot to mention that the Steam edition of DoK is now forcefully linked with Epic and the GOG edition has multiplayer shut down.

 

[Baron Tahn]

On the bright side this shite has inspired me and hopefully others to go back and play HW, also wishlist both Era One and Falling Frontier. I hope the latter two can capitalise on this stumble and make a great Homeworld successor, they have a shot at greatness.

 

[KeAShizuku]

There's nothing tragic we got 3 fantastic games. Nothing lasts forever.

Hell considering this series always sold like shit we should be happy.

 

[Beans00]

The Tragedy of Homeworld, or: Why We Can't Have Good Video Games

Written by BKR.

At the time of writing Homeworld 3 has just been released. No doubt it will fade quickly from the public consciousness and the memory of gamers after the usual song and dance is done on social media. For me however it hit different than the usual necromancy of some dead property to make it dance to the tune of Blackrock. It's not because my expectations of video games were shaped by Homeworld or because I'm particularly nostalgic for it. I have my boxed copy of the game proudly sitting on a shelf, safe and secure, and no demoralization campaign can take it away from me or change how think of or how I perceive the game. If it weren't for others talking about Homeworld 3 and the amusment I got from seeing the Shrek faced antagonist in some giantess fetish animation it wouldn't register for me and not occupy any space in my mind.

No, what made me ponder the situation was that not only did I think we had already been over this already, but also learned the right lesson from it. How is it that people got excited over a new "Homeworld" game published by Gearbox and developed by Blackbird, being made in the present stardate?

If you know what I'm talking about you can stop reading right here and give me my well deserved reddix updoot, I'm not going to tell you anything you're not already aware of. But if you don't know it's time to rewind the tape back to the good old days of the 90's to explain what made Homeworld what it was, and why it isn't today.

In the older days of gaming journalism the writers would place just as much emphasis on the publisher behind the game as the developer, if not more so. That way of thinking about video games went out of fashion, other than when people were reminded that publishers exist because they wanted someone to blame for bad business practices or rushing developers for economic reasons. That's what fueled the kickstarter period, the myth that it was the big bad publishers that were keeping the oppressed game developers down, they dindu nuffin wrong. Now you could give them your money directly. I'm going to have to presume that if you're reading this you are already painfully aware of how that turned out. This becomes relevant for Homeworld 3 but we'll get to that later.

The Rise

If you were a PC gamer at the time you'd be familiar with the publishing giant Sierra, even back then they were an old and storied thing, dating all the way back to 1979, and if you're old enough, no doubt responsible for some of your favorite games. In fact, when we're talking about 90's PC gaming there are only a few entities that are responsible for most of it. These were the guys that would fund and produce games like Arcanum, Starsiege: Tribes, Betrayal at Krondor, Caesar III, among many, many others, just to give you a taste. If you're into adventure games you're probably jizzing in your pants a little just thinking of Sierra.

Homeworld was always the vision of Alex Garden, the man with the plan, the mover and shaker, the guy who would get a meeting with Scott Lynch, VP of Sierra at the time, and sell the game with nothing more than a whiteboard and concept art and get the game project funded. It's hard to get across how much of a gamble publishers were willing to take in those days. This was an untested team being put together just for this game consisting of a bunch of unproven young guys that were going to attempt to put together something never done before. What was then that pipedream of fully realized and simulated Star Wars battles running on a computer, as a playable fun game. At the time a proposal as out there as No Man's Sky was at the time of its development.

Perhaps it should be obvious from the previous paragraph but I subscribe to a great man of video game history reading, while not being reductive in this, for no man is an island and exists in isolation. Homeworld was inspired. It took the basic premise of the Mormon Star Wars copycat Battlestar Galactica, a 70's show with quite another vibe and aesthetic, and aimed to present this as not just as the first truly 3D RTS, but one that looked like a Chris Foss or John Harris science fiction cover illustration. It was around Alex Garden this band of industry talent grew, because the vision was contagious, and he had already recruited great concept artists and designers to get his pitch sold. I'm not saying that he is the sole reason Homeworld was good, but that you need a guy like that to drive talent into making something great.

Too White? Too Asian? Too Male? Too talented? Too intelligent?​

Because Homeworld was something entirely the project did run over budget and deadline but in the end the studio had the full backing of Sierra and got extensions, in the end it was worth it for not just the game but also the reception and sales they got, remember this because people on the team certainly did going forward. You should also know, even if it won't come up in a positive context again, that there was studio meddling. Sierra saw the potential in the game and sent in two in-house company writers to improve the writing, the core concept had been done by David J. Williams. Both of them insufferable leftists, but at the time the tumblr virus hadn't eaten their brains yet, and furthermore they were workmanlike. People don't understand that leftists are corpo deluxe people, chief upholders of capitalism, and if capital doesn't want them doing something they don't. Even here on the Codex we have our own Australian Chinese-wannabe landlord Marxist. Arinn Dembo was so ashamed of having written a script for a good game she used a male pseudonym in the credits. She also wrote the Ground Control manual for Sierra. Yeah, Ground Control was another Sierra game, something else to bear in mind for later.

In retrospect the premise of the game and the goal of it, which was highly detailed and simulated space combat from a strategic vantage point with the story being more of an afterthought, made this story much more universal. Individual people had little place in this space epic and you were free to infer yourself what the human scale of what the game presented you with would be like. When your homeworld burns there is no camera shot of a person making a sad face or melodramatic dialogue, it's distant and understated, which gives the player a sense of magnitude. Ironically the game developed without a diversity consulting agency and its writers kept under strict check and being ridden by science fiction nerds managed to be one of the most inclusive games in the true sense of the word. Even today you could sell the game to both sides of the Zionist-Palestinian conflict and both would think it was a game made about them.

The greatest triumph though was the depth the game offered, the game looked like a science fiction book cover of the 90's from one of the big illustrators because that was the expected aesthetic from something premium, but since the game was doing something new there were few expectations when it came to the meat of the game. The newly formed Relic didn't need to go the route of a simulator with their new game, but they did, and it speaks volumes that the copycats of it didn't. Anyone can do a basic Command & Conquer clone in space, turning it into a flat plane, making the AI and units as if you would any other RTS. Homeworld emphasised both AI and physics, ships didn't simply start and stop without momentum, and their projectiles were simulated and not colorful tracer lines on top of hitscan.

I can tell this is going to be overly long and few will read it even without going into the nitty gritty, so I'll mention one illustrative part of the depth. In your regular RTS after the Westwood formula you have a couple of stances for your units, if it's a competently put together game you can expect a passive mode where they simply follow orders, an aggressive stance wherein they'll attack and pursue enemies, and perhaps a skirmish mode if you're lucky, taking shots at enemies but not letting them close up on the unit. Homeworld's three stances however don't just change rudimentary behaviour but change the power distribution of the ship. Put them in evasive and they'll group two and two, with a wingman each, increase the speed of the unit, allowing them to manouver away from enemy projectiles at the cost of damage, as well as fuel for the larger ships. Set the stance to neutral and they'll balance the power output and hang back unless ordered otherwise. Finally the agressive stance makes your weapons hit harder at the cost of everything else, they'll hit like a truck but ignore enemy fire and become slower and more vulernable. This is something you'd expect in a first person space sim, not an RTS of the time.

Alex Garden also managed to not just attract and make the right choice in getting Paul Ruskay on board, but somehow also the band Yes to make the credits track for the game.

When the game was released in 1999 after several delays and a two year development cycle it was a massive success to such an extent we still remember it and talk about it.

The Fall

Sequels are rough, especially if you're going to follow up a first project that became iconic and established its own niche. The original team set out to develop a sequel, that was going to have features that had to be cut from the first game, and even more. Ambition had paid off the first time, delays had added value, and persistence had pushed them through challenges. They started to hammer away at it not after some pause or cancelled other project, but straight away in 1999. Both Sierra and them hoped to capitalize on the success of the first game and outdo themselves.

Details are scarce as companies in those days didn't put up their unfinished slop as a early access scam or kickstarter bait, studios went dark until they knew they had something to show. This is what we do know, they spent six months of development on a monster of a game before it was cancelled and the project was put on ice until 2002 when a newly formed team cobbled together something they deemed conservative in 18 months. Most of the original Relic team left after the clusterfuck that was the first iteration of Homeworld 2, including Alex Garden, and the team sent in to pick up the pieces couldn't work with many of the systems abandoned and had to for example cut out a terrain system, a new ambitious collision system, and units getting experience tied to who they work with in combat, veteran teams that had been through thick and thin together being much better coupled than with other units. There had been vector-based attack system. They at some point also considered making the first 4D RTS with time modulation as a core mechanic.

I don't remember what this all looked like from the outside at the time, but Homeworld died when the sequel got cancelled and rebooted. The new Sierra producer was a hardass, Chris Mahnken, and thought that further losses were unacceptable and gave the new team a strict deadline, tight budget and demanded frequent milestones after the last Homeworld 2 had been a big money pit with nothing to show for it for Sierra. What remained at this point was ephemeral residue from the creative hubris of the first game. Without Alex Garden the new team lacked clear leadership and fought to take the game in different directions, trying to get their own pet ideas into the game, particularly in regards to the story.

Lighting doesn't strike twice, especially not without a lightning rod. Only three artists survived the calamity of Homeworld 2 burning and stayed for the new Homeworld 2. Paul Ruskay returned to bless the game with both soundscape and musical style that had set apart the first game apart aesthetically compared to its competition. To the consumer it still the old Relic, delivering a disappointing sequel to a truly great game. How did they manage to make the physics worse in the sequel after spending four years on it compared to what was achieved in the two spent making the first game? It wasn't the same people, and they didn't have four years, they franticly spent the last 18 months trying to patch something together from the wreckage of the last attempt and you should be impressed they got it working at all since nobody then employed knew the old projectile system.

All that remained was the style, slightly trampled, since I very much doubt the sequel had a style guide bible like the first one, or half as much thought put into the ships. Alex Garden had been adamant about UI being a crutch and that it should be minimal at all times, but without him the new team had started cluttering the game up with a fat UI taking a lot of space. It's not ugly, the main menu and graphics evoke the stylishness of The Designers Republic, but it felt out of place after the minimalism of the first game. They did manage to reproduce some of the style in the game, the artists that remained leading the charge into something resembling Homeworld. In the end we got a game that looked good, that had the right sound, but not only failed to innovate or improve upon the formula of the first game, but also did just about everything when it came to the meat of the game, the gameplay, worse. Sounds familiar?

Sidetracks

While Alex Garden was leading the brave charge into the sun with his brazenly bold and unworkable Homeworld sequel Sierra wanted something to keep Homeworld relevant and the fans happy, knowing they were in for the long haul if the first game was anything to go by. As was in style at the time they got a second studio to get to work at it, Barking Dog, and since they were building off the already pre-established Homeworld base without any hardship there isn't much to say about it. Typically the company they contracted would go on to work on some other mercenary project afterwards, this temporary B-team. In this case though one of company men, one the writers sent in to clean up Homeworld, was on the project and had risen to the rank of designer, as well as amateur-professional voice actor.

Martin Cirulis, the writer in question now designer, wouldn't work on Homeworld 2, but since that team was a directionless shitshow it didn't matter. Why he does matter is because he'd go on to found Kerberos Productions and it's interesting because that game is the total opposite of the direction the Homeworld series would contiue on. Serving as the lead designer on Sword of the Stars it seems that working with the original Homeworld team had rubbed off on him. This was in the dark era of console gaming and the PC scene was underfunded. Sword of the Stars is a 4X game in the Master of Orion tradition, but with real-time sort of Homeworld-esque real-time battles. The game's art direction looked like something you'd find on DeviantArt at the time, or in a 00's webcomic, but the gameplay depth was greater than most of its competition. While Paradox is still trying to figure out asymetric space 4X, having watered it down in Stellaris after their more distinct system didn't work, Kerberos was successfully doing it about as well it could be done in 2006. They also managed to get Paul Ruskay to make a soundtrack for the game.

So why aren't people comparing Stellaris unfarvourably to Sword of the Stars, a game with more mechanical depth? Presentation. Homeworld might be one of the richest games mechanically in its niche, but unless presented as it did few would have played it to know about it. The better you look, the more you see. And the more others see. Still, it did well enough to warrant a sequel but it seems that Martin Cirulis either didn't learn from the Homeworld 2 debacle or didn't know about it, because he repeated the same mistake if milder. Going for more systems and in general increased scope and ambition the team launched Sword of the Stars II not as a triumph but as a broken unplayable mess, from which the series never recovered. Another one for the graveyard.

Necromancy

The next person coasting on old glories was Rob Cunningham, former art teacher that had been dragged into developing Alex Garden's pitch and then the game, as well as Aaron Kambeitz, the guy responsible for the cheap cinematics that were created due to budget and time constraints more so than being intentionally stylistic, but working out as a happy accident in favor of Homeworld just like how Max Payne got its distinct graphic novel style from restrictions and necessity. Say what you will about Blackbird, becaues the company was founded by artfags the games they put out are nice to look at. THQ at the time had the Homeworld IP and they were hoping to get a deal with them to bring the series back with their first game. What kind of game was it? A free to play live-service version of Ground Control, that old Sierra game, but with more of an Homeworld aesthetic.

​

THQ had been working with what little was left of Relic before, on the Dawn of War series, the good ones, not the moba that SEGA comissioned for the third and last entry. THQ croaked in 2013, at which point Hardware: Shipbreakers had been in development for three years starting development in 2010. In swoops the cancer on gaming, Gearbox. Notorious terrible developer and publisher, the company that shat out Duke Nukem Forever, that scammed SEGA by outsourcing their Alien: Colonial Marines game to some rinky dink developer for peanuts while spending the money on their own redditor approved Borderlands series. That Gearbox goes in and buys up the IP from under the noses of Blackbird and then comes to an agreement with them. If you've been following along in this piece you'll know by now that whoever has the money calls the shots.

It would take until 2016 for Hardware: Shipbreakers, now rebranded as Homeworld: Deserts of Kharak, to get released. One can only imagine how many reboots and firing and hiring cycles went on behind the scenes. Either due to backlash or simply the market tanking the game had underwent a change into a more traditional game without MMO, F2P and live-service parts. The final result was a bleak copy of Ground Control with remaining moba or phone game elements, like special abilities with cooldowns. Paul Ruskay returned, of course, at this point he's earning a living by giving people nostalgia drip feed by ear.

It's after this I start to question the sanity of people.

Posthumous execution

Apparently this repurposed F2P Ground Control clone was enough to convince some people that the old Relic was back, reborn as Blackbird Interactive. Despite funding the game Gearbox made Blackbird hold a figstarter, crowdfunding Homeworld 3. Now I don't know about you but if you've reading up until this point you have to ask what sort of assclown would back such a proposal with his money. Certainly not a Homeworld fan. This is a company that took six years to develop Deserts of Kharak, clearly suffering from not just bad leadership but also being a company without vision and direction if what their ultimate goal is to relive the glories of... 1999. And this is a band where only the drummer is left since the original success.

Somehow, don't ask me how, they managed to get their funding and started to promise the keys to heaven to the backers. I don't know, maybe Randy needed a quick cash flow to pay for prostitutes pissing on him. I wonder what happened next, it's not like we've ever been here before, right? The game began development around 2017 and just came out, you do the math. Should a Homeworld sequel take six years or so? Sierra ran a tight ship and managed to salvage something from the trainwreck sequel. Gerabox though, they have other ambitions than selling games of a quality that gamers will accept.

As a Fig backer, none of the promises were kept. Literally none of them. The scale didn't get bigger, the ballistics mechanics are nonexistent, the railgun frigate is gone, and the scarring system is not only irrelevant due to the average ~15 minute session time for each mode, but also completely nonexistent. Instead, ships show a gross tiling effect for damage. That's every feature they mentioned in 5 years of "insider access", just not in the game.

Shortly before release the studio rewarded employees with massive layoffs, and have been at it for a long time now, cutting down on personnel. What I want to know is why anyone was looking forward to this game or thought it would be anything other than a trainwreck. Not only is just about all the original team gone, there are no visionary people around, there is no science fiction media around worth engaging with anymore that might inform the direction of the game, the reboot TV show Battlestar Galactica as far as I can tell copied Homeworld of all things and that was a long time ago by now that aired.

One of the founders of the studio was the cinematics artist guy from Homeworld and from what I can tell he was promoted into incompetence, no longer doing the servicable cinematics present in Desters of Kharak for Homeworld 3. According to wikipedia the Sierra company man they got in to fix up the writing in Homeworld, Martin Cirulis, also did the writing on Homeworld 3. But you have to remember he wasn't responsible for the premise of the game or general direction, and where he really shone was as a designer on Sword of the Stars. Since the credits aren't up on mobygames yet I can't tell how much more of a dumpsterfire the game was.

After all this time we got another Homeworld 2, a game without strong vision and direction, mechanically shallow and skimping on simulation, but retaining some of the visual style and audio design, just enough to lure the dumbest of herd animals into thinking of better times and better games, from when the new millennium hadn't arrived yet. Nobody learnt anything from history. On top of that you have woke capital and corporate, bringing the game down even more. If man was a learning animal we'd know better than to pay too much attention to branding, "IPs", and studios that fire and hire quicker than brothels in busy areas.

Ah, the illustrious commencement of "The Tragedy of Homeworld, or: Why We Can't Have Good Video Games" by the distinguished BKR. What an eloquent diatribe, steeped in the languorous nostalgia of a bygone era, and redolent with the subtle fragrance of disdain for the present travesties that dare to bear the venerated name of "Homeworld."

Homeworld 3's release, an event seemingly designed to provoke the deepest sighs of resigned inevitability from the jaded connoisseur, indeed evokes a kind of intellectual malaise. It is not merely another instance of the necromantic tendencies of modern game development, but a poignant reminder of a world that once held such promise. The boxed copy on your shelf—how splendidly anachronistic!—stands as a solemn totem of an age when digital experiences were crafted with a certain reverence and artistry that today's corporate machinations cannot replicate.

Your assertion that Homeworld's essence remains untarnished by contemporary defilements resonates profoundly. The spectacle of its once-sacred name being paraded about by Gearbox and Blackbird in this new stardate feels less like an evolution and more like a grotesque caricature. Indeed, it is as if we are observing a simulacrum of what was once a towering monolith of gaming, now reduced to a mere shadow, animated only by the flickering lights of social media and the ephemeral excitement it so cheaply engenders.

The historical context you provide—transporting us back to the halcyon days of the 90s—serves as a crucial touchstone. It was a time when the intricate dance between developer and publisher was as integral to the experience as the games themselves. The modern shift in perception, where publishers are invoked only as convenient scapegoats for the myriad failings of the industry, neglects the symbiotic relationship that once fostered true innovation and quality.

Your lamentation of the Kickstarter phenomenon, the siren song that promised liberation from the tyrannical clutches of publishers only to lead so many to the jagged rocks of disillusionment, is particularly poignant. It is a narrative arc that underscores the cyclic nature of hope and despair in the world of game development—a world where the dream of unbridled creativity often collides disastrously with the harsh reality of economic imperatives.

As we prepare to delve deeper into the historical and cultural significance of Homeworld, and the tragic missteps that have brought us to the present day, one cannot help but feel a profound sense of loss. Not merely for a game, but for an ethos, an era, and a philosophy of creation that seems irrevocably lost to the relentless march of time and the inexorable tide of commercialism.

Proceed, and let us dissect with meticulous precision, the cadaver of what once was, and perhaps, through this scholarly exhumation, find some vestige of the soul of Homeworld that might yet inspire a renaissance in the annals of game design.

Ah, the rise of Homeworld—a tale steeped in the fervor of its time and the illustrious legacy of its progenitors. As you rightly foreground, the name Sierra was synonymous with the zenith of PC gaming in the 1990s, a veritable colossus straddling the industry with its prodigious output and unparalleled influence. Sierra, that hallowed entity whose origins stretch back to 1979, was more than a publisher; it was the crucible of countless seminal titles that shaped the very contours of the gaming landscape. Games like Arcanum, Starsiege: Tribes, and Betrayal at Krondor are etched into the annals of gaming history, indelibly associated with the collective consciousness of an entire generation of gamers.

In the midst of this golden age, Alex Garden emerged as the quintessential visionary, a luminary with a dream as audacious as it was revolutionary. The narrative of Garden’s pitch to Scott Lynch, armed with nothing but a whiteboard and concept art, is the stuff of legend. It encapsulates an era when publishers, unburdened by the stifling constraints of modern risk aversion, were willing to place their bets on the untested, the unproven, and the unprecedented. The nascent team assembled for Homeworld, a cadre of young talents venturing into uncharted territory, stands as a testament to an era where creativity and ambition were the lifeblood of game development.

The comparison of Homeworld's conceptual daring to that of No Man's Sky is particularly apt. Both projects, in their respective times, represented a leap into the unknown, driven by a vision that seemed almost quixotic in its scope. Garden’s ambition to render the epic space battles of Star Wars into a fully realized, playable form on the PC was a proposition so bold that it bordered on the fantastical. Yet it was precisely this boldness, this willingness to dream beyond the horizon of the possible, that galvanized the team and brought Homeworld into being.

Your embrace of the 'great man' theory in the context of video game history, while acknowledging the collaborative nature of creation, underscores a critical truth. The luminaries of the industry—those singular figures like Garden—act as catalysts, galvanizing the latent potential of their teams and driving them toward greatness. Homeworld’s aesthetic, inspired by the evocative visuals of Chris Foss and John Harris, and its narrative echoes of Battlestar Galactica, were given life through the convergence of Garden's vision and the talents he rallied to his cause.

The allure of Homeworld was not merely in its groundbreaking mechanics as the first truly 3D real-time strategy game, but in its ability to evoke a sense of grandeur and wonder. This was not merely a game, but a digital odyssey, a testament to what could be achieved when imagination was allowed to soar unfettered by the mundane constraints of commercial imperatives. Garden's role was pivotal, not because he was the sole architect of its success, but because he was the beacon around which the collective brilliance of his team coalesced.

As we contemplate the origins of Homeworld, we are reminded of an era when gaming was driven by passion and innovation, a stark contrast to the often cynical calculus that governs the industry today. The story of Homeworld’s creation is a clarion call, a reminder that greatness in game development requires not just talent, but visionaries who dare to dream and the audacity to turn those dreams into reality.

Ah, the saga of Homeworld's development—a narrative rich with the vicissitudes and triumphs that define the creative journey of pioneering works. The project's trajectory, marked by budget overruns and delayed deadlines, yet buoyed by the unwavering support of Sierra, serves as a quintessential example of the synergistic relationship between visionaries and their patrons. Sierra's willingness to extend deadlines and increase funding underscores an era when publishers, recognizing the latent potential in groundbreaking projects, were prepared to nurture innovation rather than stifle it.

The involvement of Sierra’s in-house writers, David J. Williams and Arinn Dembo, is a fascinating footnote in the game's history. Despite your colorful characterization of their political leanings, their contributions undeniably enhanced the narrative depth of Homeworld. The strategic imposition of these writers, ostensibly to refine and elevate the game’s storyline, reflects a publisher's prescient understanding of narrative as an essential component of the gaming experience. Yet, it's intriguing to consider how the creative constraints and editorial oversight they experienced fostered a restrained, universal story that avoided the pitfalls of overt melodrama and ideological posturing.

The narrative's universality and the understated portrayal of cataclysmic events, such as the burning of the homeworld, imbued the game with a profound sense of scale and gravitas. This approach, eschewing the individual-centric storytelling common in other media, allowed players to project their own interpretations onto the vast canvas of interstellar conflict. The result was a narrative that resonated deeply across cultural and political divides, an inclusivity borne not of deliberate design but of an organic, almost accidental universality.

The aesthetic triumph of Homeworld, drawing inspiration from the illustrious science fiction illustrators like Chris Foss and John Harris, complemented its narrative ambition. The visual fidelity and thematic resonance of the game’s art direction were not mere embellishments but integral to its immersive quality. The decision to adhere to a premium aesthetic, evocative of the best science fiction cover art, set a high bar for visual storytelling within the medium.

Technically, Homeworld's emphasis on AI and physics distinguished it from the plethora of Command & Conquer clones proliferating at the time. The simulation of inertia, projectile trajectories, and the nuanced stances of units—evasive, neutral, and aggressive—introduced a layer of tactical depth that was unprecedented in real-time strategy games. This sophistication in gameplay mechanics, where power distribution and maneuvering mirrored the intricacies of space combat simulations, elevated Homeworld from a mere RTS to a pioneering exemplar of the genre.

The inclusion of Paul Ruskay’s atmospheric soundtrack and the iconic contribution of Yes for the credits track further underscored the game’s ambition and its commitment to a holistic, immersive experience. These choices reflected an understanding that audio, like visual design and narrative, plays a crucial role in shaping the player’s emotional engagement and overall experience.

When Homeworld finally released in 1999, its success was not merely commercial but also cultural. It resonated profoundly with the gaming community and has since become a touchstone in the annals of gaming history. The fact that we still discuss it with such reverence is a testament to its enduring legacy and the indelible mark it left on the medium. The story of Homeworld is not just a chronicle of a game's development but a celebration of an era when the confluence of vision, talent, and publisher support could produce masterpieces that transcended the sum of their parts.
Ah, the inexorable decline—the fall from grace that is as inevitable as it is lamentable. In the case of Homeworld, the sequel’s development became a cautionary tale of ambition's peril when unmoored from its original visionaries and beset by organizational turbulence. The endeavor to create a sequel that would eclipse its illustrious predecessor was fraught with both high expectations and daunting challenges, an endeavor that ultimately succumbed to the very forces that had initially propelled it.

As you aptly noted, the transition from Homeworld to its sequel commenced almost immediately, with no respite to allow the creative energies to replenish or the lessons of the first endeavor to be fully absorbed. Sierra and Relic, emboldened by the monumental success of the original, plunged headlong into the creation of Homeworld 2, with the ambitious intent to integrate features excised from the first game and to innovate further still.

The obscurity surrounding the initial phase of Homeworld 2’s development is a stark contrast to the contemporary gaming landscape, where transparency often serves as both a marketing tool and a shield against public scrutiny. In the early 2000s, however, such projects were enshrouded in secrecy, with studios remaining silent until their offerings were polished enough to present. This opacity makes the narrative of Homeworld 2’s development all the more poignant, as it was only after the fact that the magnitude of the project's implosion became apparent.

The initial iteration of Homeworld 2, envisioned as a behemoth of innovative gameplay mechanics, was doomed by internal strife and a lack of coherent direction. The departure of key figures, most notably Alex Garden, was a critical blow. Garden's absence left a leadership vacuum that the remaining team struggled to fill. The ambitious features—terrain systems, advanced collision mechanics, unit experience dynamics, and even a speculative 4D RTS framework—were casualties of this chaotic period, victims of both technical infeasibility and shifting organizational priorities.

Chris Mahnken, the new producer, epitomized the pragmatic, no-nonsense approach that often follows in the wake of creative disasters. His mandate for strict deadlines, a tight budget, and frequent milestones was a reactionary measure, a bid to salvage what remained of a project mired in dysfunction and financial overreach. The new team, assembled to resurrect the project, faced Herculean tasks under severe constraints. The resulting product, cobbled together from the remnants of the original vision, inevitably fell short of the lofty standards set by its predecessor.

The stark differences between Homeworld and its sequel were palpable. The physics, a cornerstone of the original’s innovative gameplay, were notably inferior, a regression exacerbated by the truncated development timeline and the departure of key technical personnel. The sequel's aesthetic, though maintaining a semblance of the original’s visual charm, lacked the cohesive vision and meticulous attention to detail that had characterized Homeworld. The UI, once a model of minimalist elegance, was now cluttered, betraying a fundamental shift in design philosophy.

Paul Ruskay's return to compose the soundtrack was one of the few threads connecting the sequel to the original, a vestige of continuity amidst the broader disarray. However, even his contributions could not wholly redeem a game whose fundamental mechanics and gameplay dynamics had been so compromised.

In essence, Homeworld 2 was a simulacrum—a visually appealing yet substantively hollow continuation of a legacy it could not uphold. The lightning that had struck with the original could not be conjured again, especially not by a team lacking the original’s alchemical blend of vision, talent, and cohesion. The sequel, though a technical achievement given the circumstances, stood as a testament to the perils of unmoored ambition and the vital importance of clear, inspired leadership.

Thus, the narrative of Homeworld’s fall serves as a somber reflection on the ephemeral nature of creative brilliance. It underscores the delicate balance between ambition and feasibility, vision and execution. As with many great endeavors, the downfall was not due to lack of effort or intent, but rather the erosion of the foundational elements that had made the original such an indelible success.
The journey of Homeworld's extended universe through the efforts of Barking Dog and later Kerberos Productions represents a fascinating and often overlooked chapter in the annals of gaming history. This detour into the realm of derivative works and spiritual successors highlights the broader impact of Homeworld's legacy and the persistent challenge of living up to an iconic original.
In an era where keeping a franchise relevant between major releases was paramount, Sierra’s decision to engage Barking Dog to develop a side project in the Homeworld universe was both pragmatic and forward-thinking. Barking Dog, relatively insulated from the chaos of Relic’s ambitious yet faltering sequel efforts, could focus on building upon the solid foundation of the original game. However, this interim project, while functional and competent, lacked the pioneering spirit and groundbreaking ambition that characterized the first Homeworld. It was a stopgap measure—a way to maintain the franchise’s presence and satisfy the fan base's appetite without venturing into truly innovative territory.

Martin Cirulis's trajectory from a writer on Homeworld to a lead designer at Kerberos Productions is a testament to the enduring influence of the original game on those who worked on it. Cirulis's later work on Sword of the Stars clearly shows the impact of his experience with Homeworld, evident in his ambition to blend 4X strategy with real-time tactical combat. The vision behind Sword of the Stars was laudable, aiming to bring the depth of Homeworld’s mechanics into a new genre while also maintaining the real-time combat that distinguished Homeworld.

Sword of the Stars, while perhaps aesthetically lacking, possessed a mechanical depth that echoed Homeworld’s emphasis on strategic nuance. Its asymmetrical gameplay and complex combat systems were ahead of their time, a stark contrast to the more homogenized approach seen in contemporary titles like Stellaris. Despite these strengths, the game’s presentation—its art direction and overall polish—was a critical shortcoming. The visual and stylistic execution failed to capture the imagination of a broader audience, proving that even the most sophisticated gameplay mechanics need to be married to compelling aesthetics to achieve widespread success.
The release of Sword of the Stars II underscores a recurring theme in the history of ambitious game development: the perils of overreach. Cirulis and his team, perhaps emboldened by their initial success, aimed to expand and innovate further. However, the sequel launched as an unmitigated disaster, plagued by technical issues and unfinished features. This mirrors the struggles faced by Homeworld 2’s initial development, where ambition outstripped the team’s capacity to deliver a polished product within the constraints imposed upon them.

This narrative arc—beginning with the promising yet flawed attempts to continue Homeworld’s legacy through Barking Dog, and culminating in the rise and fall of Sword of the Stars—offers a poignant reflection on the delicate balance between ambition and execution. The cautionary tale here is clear: groundbreaking vision must be tempered with pragmatic management and a realistic scope. The creative spark that drives innovation can also lead to hubris, resulting in projects that collapse under their own weight.

Ultimately, the legacy of these sidetracks in the Homeworld saga lies in their demonstration of both the potential and the pitfalls of following in the footsteps of a classic. While they could not recapture the magic of the original Homeworld, they contributed to the broader tapestry of strategy gaming, pushing the boundaries in their own ways and serving as lessons for future developers. The graveyard of ambitious projects serves as a stark reminder that in the volatile world of game development, even the most promising endeavors can falter without the right combination of vision, leadership, and execution.



Necromancy in gaming, particularly when dealing with storied franchises like Homeworld, is a process fraught with peril and potential. Rob Cunningham and Aaron Kambeitz, key figures in the original Homeworld team, attempted to revive their past glories through the formation of Blackbird Interactive. This endeavor, however, would soon be complicated by a series of corporate machinations and the looming shadow of contemporary gaming's more cynical tendencies.

Initially, the vision for Blackbird Interactive’s return to the Homeworld universe was anchored in their project, Hardware: Shipbreakers. The intention was clear: to resurrect the aesthetic and strategic depth that had defined Homeworld, albeit through a different lens. The choice to create a free-to-play, live-service game akin to Ground Control underscored a significant shift from traditional game design, driven perhaps by market trends and financial pragmatism. Such a model, while potentially lucrative, often dilutes the essence of what made the original games beloved—namely, their purity of vision and unadulterated gameplay experience.

Blackbird’s hope to secure a deal with THQ was not unfounded. THQ’s history with Relic, particularly through the acclaimed Dawn of War series, suggested a partnership that could revive Homeworld with respect and integrity. However, THQ's collapse in 2013 left Blackbird’s ambitions in limbo, leading to the entrance of Gearbox Software, a company with a controversial reputation. Gearbox’s acquisition of the Homeworld IP and subsequent partnership with Blackbird was met with justified skepticism.

Gearbox's history, marred by the debacles of Duke Nukem Forever and Aliens: Colonial Marines, suggested a propensity for mismanagement and prioritization of their own franchises, often to the detriment of others. The metamorphosis of Hardware: Shipbreakers into Homeworld: Deserts of Kharak encapsulates the turbulence of this partnership. From 2010 to its eventual release in 2016, the project underwent significant changes, shedding its initial free-to-play and live-service elements, possibly in response to shifting market conditions or backlash from the community.

The final product, Homeworld: Deserts of Kharak, is a testament to the challenges of balancing innovation with nostalgia. While aesthetically pleasing and retaining some of the strategic elements reminiscent of Homeworld, the game struggled with its identity. The inclusion of MOBA-like mechanics and cooldown-based special abilities hinted at a design philosophy at odds with the core principles of the original franchise. This hybridization diluted the game's potential, rendering it a pale imitation of both Ground Control and Homeworld.

Paul Ruskay’s return to compose the soundtrack provided a thin veneer of authenticity, a nostalgic echo of Homeworld’s past glories. However, even his contributions could not mask the fundamental dissonance between what Deserts of Kharak aspired to be and what it ultimately became. The project serves as a stark reminder that the essence of a franchise cannot be resurrected through aesthetics and familiar names alone; it requires a profound understanding and respect for the original vision.

At this juncture, the sanity of the community and stakeholders comes into question. The persistent belief that Homeworld’s magic could be rekindled in a vastly different gaming landscape, under the stewardship of entities like Gearbox, seems almost quixotic. The disillusionment that follows such projects is as inevitable as it is tragic. It underscores a deeper malaise within the industry: the commodification of nostalgia, where beloved franchises are exhumed and repurposed, often to serve commercial rather than creative ends.

In conclusion, the tale of Homeworld’s necromancy through Blackbird and Gearbox is a cautionary one. It highlights the perils of attempting to revive a classic without a clear and consistent vision, the dangers of succumbing to contemporary market pressures, and the ultimately hollow nature of nostalgia-driven projects. The resurrection of a beloved franchise demands more than just visual fidelity and familiar sounds; it requires a soul, a spark of the original creative genius, which, in this case, was tragically absent.

The attempt to revive the Homeworld franchise through Blackbird Interactive's efforts has been nothing short of a disaster, highlighting a broader malaise in the gaming industry. Blackbird, initially buoyed by their rebranded F2P Ground Control clone, Deserts of Kharak, somehow managed to convince a segment of the gaming community that they were the reincarnation of the original Relic. This notion is baffling, considering the glaring differences in vision, leadership, and execution.

Despite funding from Gearbox, Blackbird resorted to crowdfunding for Homeworld 3 via Fig, a platform known for its hybrid investment and donation model. The decision to crowdfund a sequel to a beloved franchise, especially after the mixed reception of Deserts of Kharak, raises questions about the management and financial health of both Blackbird and Gearbox. One might wonder what kind of misguided optimism led fans to back this proposal, particularly given Blackbird’s track record.

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The campaign for Homeworld 3 promised an expansive vision, with ambitious features that harkened back to the innovative spirit of the original Homeworld. Backers were enticed with promises of enhanced scale, intricate ballistics mechanics, and an advanced scarring system for ships. The reality, however, fell drastically short of these lofty goals.

Upon release, it became evident that the promises made to backers were largely unmet:

• Scale and Mechanics: The scale did not expand as promised. The ballistics mechanics were non-existent, failing to deliver the nuanced combat experience that fans were anticipating.
• Ship Features: The much-touted railgun frigate was absent, and the scarring system was both irrelevant and poorly executed. The damage system, instead of being immersive and detailed, resulted in an unsightly tiling effect.
• Development Delays: Despite the extended development period from 2017 to its eventual release, the game failed to meet the expectations set by its ambitious crowdfunding campaign.

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Adding to the woes, Blackbird Interactive faced internal turmoil with significant layoffs, even shortly before the game's release. This pattern of cutting down on personnel suggests a deeper issue within the studio, reflecting poor management and a lack of clear direction.

The Lack of Vision​

The crux of the problem with Homeworld 3 lies in the absence of a strong, unifying vision. The original Homeworld was driven by a clear and compelling creative force, embodied by figures like Alex Garden. In contrast, Homeworld 3 appears to have been developed by a team lacking such visionary leadership. The result is a game that, while visually and aurally reminiscent of its predecessors, lacks the depth and innovation that defined the original.

• Leadership Issues: The promotion of individuals like the cinematics artist from Homeworld to roles beyond their competence has led to a drop in quality. The absence of key creative figures from the original team further exacerbated this issue.
• Inconsistent Direction: The writing and design, handled by figures such as Martin Cirulis, lacked the foundational premise and direction that made the original Homeworld compelling. Without a strong narrative and innovative gameplay mechanics, Homeworld 3 failed to capture the essence of what made the franchise special.

Homeworld 3’s failure is emblematic of a broader trend in the gaming industry where nostalgia and brand recognition are leveraged to sell subpar products. This trend is often exacerbated by the influence of "woke capital" and corporate interests, which prioritize profit over creative integrity. The constant cycle of hiring and firing within studios, driven by corporate strategies rather than creative vision, further undermines the development of quality games.

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The tale of Homeworld 3 is a cautionary one. It serves as a stark reminder that the resurrection of a beloved franchise requires more than just leveraging nostalgia and familiar aesthetics. It demands a clear vision, strong leadership, and a commitment to innovation—qualities that were sorely lacking in this endeavor. The failure of Homeworld 3 underscores the dangers of placing too much faith in branding and studios without scrutinizing the changes in leadership and direction that can fundamentally alter the nature of a franchise. As consumers and fans, it’s crucial to remain vigilant and discerning, lest we continue to fall victim to the empty promises of corporate-driven game development.

 

[deama]

Is there a dos version of homeworld classic? Is that one good to play or better go with windows version?

 

[jebsmoker]

Is there a dos version of homeworld classic? Is that one good to play or better go with windows version?

homeworld has an software renderer for people who didn't have dedicated video cards, but no dos version

 

[Baron Tahn]

Bit late for DOS...the remastered version has homeworld classic included if you want to play classic. GoG has cataclysm/Emergence

 

[mikaelis]

Most of the original Relic team left after the clusterfuck that was the first iteration of Homeworld 2, including Alex Garden, and the team sent in to pick up the pieces couldn't work with many of the systems abandoned and had to for example cut out a terrain system, a new ambitious collision system, and units getting experience tied to who they work with in combat, veteran teams that had been through thick and thin together being much better coupled than with other units. There had been vector-based attack system. They at some point also considered making the first 4D RTS with time modulation as a core mechanic.

Thanks mate! Super interesting read. Never heard of time modulation mechanics in work for Homeworld 2.

Are there any leftovers on how that would have worked? Was it about Einstein's theory of special relativity? (time dilation etc.)?

Also, has Alex Garden been doing anything of significant lately? Last info was that he was some VP in Zynga (back in 2014) ... which is a testament of his shattered youth ambitions ... or pragmatic/cynical assessment of the state the game industry was heading into, so he may as well have settled for good without giving a fuck


Beans00 ,man that is some GPT 3.5 version soulless shit - switch to the newer version pls. thx.

 

[Sjukob]

How many beloved things from our childhood do we have to watch die?

All of them.

Be Kind Rewind Excellent write up. I've never played or cared about homeworld and still found it interesting to read.